As he did so I caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror over themantelpiece. I could have sworn that it was set in a malicious andabominable smile. Yet I persuaded myself that it must have beensome nervous contraction which I had surprised, for he turned tome an instant later with genuine concern upon his features.
“I am sorry to hear this,” said he. “I only know Mr. Holmesthrough some business dealings which we have had, but I haveevery respect for his talents and his character. He is an amateur ofcrime, as I am of disease. For him the villain, for me the microbe.
There are my prisons,” he continued, pointing to a row of bottlesand jars which stood upon a side table. “Among those gelatinecultivations some of the very worst offenders in the world are nowdoing time.”
“It was on account of your special knowledge that Mr. Holmesdesired to see you. He has a high opinion of you and thought thatyou were the one man in London who could help him.”
The little man started, and the jaunty smoking-cap slid to thefloor.
“Why?” he asked. “Why should Mr. Homes think that I couldhelp him in his trouble?”
“Because of your knowledge of Eastern diseases.”
“But why should he think that this disease which he hascontracted is Eastern?”
“Because, in some professional inquiry, he has been workingamong Chinese sailors down in the docks.”
Mr. Culverton Smith smiled pleasantly and picked up hissmoking-cap.
“Oh, that’s it—is it?” said he. “I trust the matter is not so graveas you suppose. How long has he been ill?”
“About three days.”
“Is he delirious?”
“Occasionally.”
“Tut, tut! This sounds serious. It would be inhuman not toanswer his call. I very much resent any interruption to my work,Dr. Watson, but this case is certainly exceptional. I will come withyou at once.”
I remembered Holmes’s injunction.
“I have another appointment,” said I.
“Very good. I will go alone. I have a note of Mr. Holmes’saddress. You can rely upon my being there within half an hour atmost.”
It was with a sinking heart that I reentered Holmes’s bedroom.
For all that I knew the worst might have happened in my absence.
To my enormous relief, he had improved greatly in the interval.
His appearance was as ghastly as ever, but all trace of delirium hadleft him and he spoke in a feeble voice, it is true, but with evenmore than his usual crispness and lucidity.
“Well, did you see him, Watson?”
“Yes; he is coming.”
“Admirable, Watson! Admirable! You are the best of messengers.”
“He wished to return with me.”
“That would never do, Watson. That would be obviouslyimpossible. Did he ask what ailed me?”
“I told him about the Chinese in the East End.”
“Exactly! Well, Watson, you have done all that a good friendcould. You can now disappear from the scene.”
“I must wait and hear his opinion, Holmes.”
“Of course you must. But I have reasons to suppose thatthis opinion would be very much more frank and valuable if heimagines that we are alone. There is just room behind the head ofmy bed, Watson.”
“My dear Holmes!”
“I fear there is no alternative, Watson. The room does not lenditself to concealment, which is as well, as it is the less likely toarouse suspicion. But just there, Watson, I fancy that it could bedone.” Suddenly he sat up with a rigid intentness upon his haggardface. “There are the wheels, Watson. Quick, man, if you love me!
And don’t budge, whatever happens—whatever happens, do youhear? Don’t speak! Don’t move! Just listen with all your ears.”
Then in an instant his sudden access of strength departed, andhis masterful, purposeful talk droned away into the low, vaguemurmurings of a semi-delirious man.
From the hiding-place into which I had been so swiftly hustledI heard the footfalls upon the stair, with the opening and theclosing of the bedroom door. Then, to my surprise, there came along silence, broken only by the heavy breathings and gaspings ofthe sick man. I could imagine that our visitor was standing by thebedside and looking down at the sufferer. At last that strange hushwas broken.
“Holmes!” he cried. “Holmes!” in the insistent tone of one whoawakens a sleeper. “Can’t you hear me, Holmes?” There was arustling, as if he had shaken the sick man roughly by the shoulder.
“Is that you, Mr. Smith?” Holmes whispered. “I hardly daredhope that you would come.”
The other laughed.
“I should imagine not,” he said. “And yet, you see, I am here.
Coals of fire, Holmes—coals of fire!”
“It is very good of you—very noble of you. I appreciate yourspecial knowledge.”
Our visitor sniggered.
“You do. You are, fortunately, the only man in London who does.
Do you know what is the matter with you?”
“The same,” said Holmes.
“Ah! You recognize the symptoms?”
“Only too well.”
“Well, I shouldn’t be surprised, Holmes. I shouldn’t be surprisedif it were the same. A bad lookout for you if it is. Poor Victor wasa dead man on the fourth day—a strong, hearty young fellow.
It was certainly, as you said, very surprising that he should havecontracted an out-of-the-way Asiatic disease in the heart ofLondon—a disease, too, of which I had made such a very specialstudy. Singular coincidence, Holmes. Very smart of you to noticeit, but rather uncharitable to suggest that it was cause and effect.”
“I knew that you did it.”
“Oh, you did, did you? Well, you couldn’t prove it, anyhow. Butwhat do you think of yourself spreading reports about me likethat, and then crawling to me for help the moment you are introuble? What sort of a game is that—eh?”
I heard the rasping, laboured breathing of the sick man. “Giveme the water!” he gasped.
“You’re precious near your end, my friend, but I don’t want youto go till I have had a word with you. That’s why I give you water.
There, don’t slop it about! That’s right. Can you understand whatI say?”
Holmes groaned.
“Do what you can for me. Let bygones be bygones,” he whispered.
“I’ll put the words out of my head—I swear I will. Only cure me,and I’ll forget it.”
“Forget what?”
“Well, about Victor Savage’s death. You as good as admitted justnow that you had done it. I’ll forget it.”